Jazz Poems

TOUCHING THE PAST Uptown New Orleans, 1940, And here was a man of the right color, Old enough to have been there, Who maybe heard. So I enquired From the old man doing his yard work “Ever hear Buddy Bolden play?” “Ah me,” he said, stopping his work, “Yes. But you mean King, King Bolden. That’s what we called him then.” He leaned on his rake a while, resting. “Used to play in Algiers, played so loud We could hear him clear ‘cross the river.” He seemed listening. “King Bolden, now, There was a man could play.” We stood there, Thinking about it, smiling. ROBERT SARGENT

from Jazz Poems | Selected and edited by Kevin Young

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